Even Hanuman Forgot And Arjuna Doubted: Gita Asks for Belief, Not Perfection

The Myth of Readiness. There is a story we’ve all been sold, and most of us are still paying installments on it. It goes like this: “Once you’re confident, disciplined, emotionally stable, spiritually aligned and mentally strong, you’ll be ready. Then your moment will come.” But life, especially the kind that leads to anything meaningful, has never worked that way. That version of readiness doesn’t exist. It never has. Not in the lives of people who moved mountains, changed empires, or found their purpose in chaos. And certainly not in the people we now treat as mythic.

He was born a warrior. Trained his whole life. Skilled, strong, respected. And yet, when it came time to do what mattered most, to stand for what was right, he collapsed. He looked at the battlefield and said, “I can’t.” Not because he wasn’t strong enough to fight. But because his heart couldn’t hold the complexity of it all. He was overwhelmed, emotional, paralyzed.
And instead of being scolded or dismissed, he was spoken to. Taught. Guided. Krishna didn’t say, “Come back when you’ve pulled yourself together.” He said, “Now that you’re broken open, now you can see clearly.” The battlefield didn’t wait for Arjuna to be okay. He had to fight as he was, confused, scared, unsure. And that’s what made it real.

Not metaphorically. Literally. When the time came to leap across the ocean to find Sita, Hanuman stood with everyone else, looking around, waiting for someone to step forward. Why? Because he genuinely didn’t remember that he could fly. The one being capable of that impossible leap had to be reminded: “You’ve always had that power. You just forgot.”
Even the gods forget their strength sometimes. So what makes you think doubt disqualifies you? Maybe forgetting is part of the path. So someone or something, can remind you.

We spend years trying to ‘fix’ ourselves. We think that if we remove every insecurity, every doubt, every fear, we’ll finally be eligible for our real life to begin. But the divine doesn’t work through perfect people. It never has. The story of every great soul isn’t one of being ready, it’s of responding anyway.
Even when confused. Even when grieving. Even when terrified. The crack in you is not a defect. It’s the entry point. It’s where the light comes in. And maybe, just maybe, it’s what makes you usable.

Purpose doesn't arrive with soft music and candlelight. It comes during heartbreak, in a job you’ve outgrown, in a room where you feel invisible. It arrives when you’re doubting your worth, doubting your voice, doubting the reason you’re even here. And it doesn't say, “Are you ready?” It says, “Come.” Not because you're perfect. But because you're available. Not because you’ve healed. But because you’re listening. Not because you’ve proven yourself. But because you’ve stopped pretending.
This isn’t a motivational quote disguised as wisdom. Arjuna didn’t apply for leadership. Hanuman didn’t ask to be a hero. They were called in the middle of their doubt. Not at the end of it. What makes someone “chosen” isn’t divine favoritism. It’s whether they say yes when it would be easier to say no. It’s whether they show up when they don’t feel ready.

If you’re waiting to feel worthy before stepping into what’s next, you’ll be waiting your whole life. That threshold doesn’t exist. There is no gate, no doorman, no red carpet moment where the universe says, “Ah, finally. You’re perfect now. Come in.” What there is, instead, is this moment. This pull. This quiet ache that won’t let you settle.
So go. Start. Speak. Stand. Not because you’re flawless. But because the world needs something real. And nothing is more real than someone who shows up unsure and does it anyway.